


Love Letters To The Moon

by rchiveweus



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anger, Angst, Gen, How Do I Tag, Hurt No Comfort, I'm Sorry, Lots of Angst, Moon, excessive use of metaphors to intensify the pain, pls read it i worked hard ;-;, the tags sound so depressing i, this is just 4k words of pure pain except that (one) dialogue by that detention teacher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:48:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28330389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rchiveweus/pseuds/rchiveweus
Summary: " A young boy of 17, trying to run away from the demons that haunt him finds comfort by writing out his pain in letters addressed to the moon. "
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo/The Moon Goddess
Comments: 7
Kudos: 6
Collections: Sides of the Moon stories





	Love Letters To The Moon

**Author's Note:**

> this is my submission for the ‘sides of the moon’ project for Oneus’ 2nd debut anniversary. The keywords given to me were; Geonhak, anger and moon.  
> Hope you guys enjoy♡
> 
> [ Playlist ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5RsoOLzQ7tJV0Z2sFnbIfb?si=buAwJf56SNCxdvkBIz3Mnw)

The smell of paint hits him as Geonhak squeezes the nozzle of the spray can, dragging it across the rough surface of the stone wall, leaving behind thick orange paint in his wake. He shakes the can earnestly, spraying color over the previously done green as the wind ruffles up his unkempt hair making him shiver, the flimsy material of his shirt doing the bare minimum to provide shelter against the cold, November air. 

He switches his orange spray for a different one now, shaking the can as his eyes dart around the place almost instinctively. He stands in silence, his breath coming in short decisive puffs as he scans the area, looking for any signs of police cars before proceeding to outline the orange with black but no color comes out. Geonhak frowns at the shabby state of the black can, and shakes it again violently then presses the nozzle. The can lets out a pathetic splutter of paint and air before dying out completely and Geonhak curses, annoyed, and throws the now used-up can as far as he can wincing when it hits another metal surface with an audible _clang_.

He sighs, his breath forming almost invisible clouds of air in front of his face, as he worries his lower lip. He'll have to buy new paint, but whatever little money he had got used up in buying a new pair of shoes, which leaves him with only one option. Steal from his dad. _Again._

Geonhak studies his incomplete artwork in silence, except for the faint rustle of nearby trees and the wind whistling in his ears. He shrugs with a reluctant sigh, packing the rest of the paints inside his worn out backpack and slings it over his shoulder and backs away steadily, staring unblinking at the myriad of color splashed across the walls, each piece of art telling a different story. 

The wind whips up again, making him shiver and Geonhak spares his own piece of art one last glance before turning around and sprinting away into the night.

The bedroom window creaks slightly when Geonhak pries it open, and he flinches at the noise. Positioning one leg on the whitewashed sill, he hoists himself up and lands inside his bedroom, his movements cat-like and silent. Once inside, he discards his backpack in one corner and quietly makes his way to the kitchen, not daring to turn on the lights lest he woke up his dad. The refrigerator is mostly empty when he finally finds it in the darkness save for leftover pasta and some apples. Geonhak feels anger brimming up inside him, his dad forgot to restock the fucking fridge; again. 

He grabs the apples, positively shaking with resentment and slams the refrigerator door behind him, not caring about the sound which vibrates through the silent house. Geonhak takes a deep breath; he needs to calm down and starts walking towards the lone vase kept haphazardly among other litter on the mantelpiece holding a single dying rose.

Geonhak stares at the rose for a moment, something similar to pain and raw anger stirring up inside him before he swiftly snatches it out and tosses it amongst the other trash, directing his attention back to the task at hand. Taking a deep breath, he steadily inserts a hand inside the vase, looking for the cash his dad had hidden away.

He fumbles around, growing more nervous by the second, when he finally finds the wad of cash and retrieves it carefully. With shaking hands, he withdraws a few notes from the bundle, just enough that his dad won't notice, and hastily replaces back the rose inside the vase before stealthily walking back to his room. He closes the door behind him and falls to the ground, his whole body shaking.

He draws his knees close to his chest, wrapping his arms around them and buries his face inside, his hands gripping his hair, silently screaming out his frustration. He hates this, hates this feeling of living in constant fear. 

A sudden light flashes over his face and he looks up, catching the shadow of the moon outside his window, a thousand emotions rushing past his mind as he gets up and retrieves a fresh sheet of paper from the wooden desk drawer, tracing a finger along its rough texture. Taking a deep breath, he lets his emotions flow into his words and starts writing.

— 

_Dear Moon,_

_I don't know what's happening to me. I've started to hate everything and everyone around myself. It feels as if I'm locked inside a room with no windows and the walls are slowly coming closer, trapping me inside._

_I'm scared._

_My dad doesn't care about me. He treats me like an unwanted object, I hate him. It makes me so angry that I have to live with someone who doesn't want me. Why. Why is this happening to me. It is becoming more and more difficult to control my anger, moon. It just overflows out of me and I lose control of all my senses._

_This is not me, moon. What is happening to me_

— 

Two drops of tears fall onto the parchment, beside his handwriting as a shiver racks throughout his whole body. He digs his palms into his thighs trying to stop the tears, trying to lessen the pain, the anger; scared that it will consume him one day. 

Geonhak gasps, suddenly feeling a lack of oxygen and takes in deep, lungful breaths when he feels a certain calming presence wrapping itself around him, like a lullaby but when he opens his eyes again, there is nothing. Just him, and his pathetic apartment room. He folds up the letter and stuffs it into his backpack along with numerous similar ones, gazing back to the moon once again and drawing strength from it.

Geonhak startles awake as something hard hits against his palm, sending a sharp pain up his whole arm. He blinks, trying to gain awareness of his surroundings and stifles a yawn.

"Kim Geonhak," a sharp voice rings out and Geonhak jerks up, turning to face Ms. Choi, his history professor staring at him with narrowed eyes and a sour expression on her face. Geonhak curses himself internally, and stands up from his seat, his left hand already throbbing from where the metal ruler hit. 

"Detention after school for sleeping in class,” she announces, without sparing him another glance.

Geonhak knew this was coming, but it still made him angry and he flops back down on his seat tapping his fingers across the rough, worn out surface of the desk. The professor continues their lecture but Geonhak isn't listening, opting to gaze out of the window and watch the squirrels chase each other up the trees.

Ever since the night of the accident, he’d gradually lost interest in a lot of things, including studies. It’s useless, he thinks as he makes his way to the detention room all too aware of the hushed whispers and daunting rumors that followed his stead.

_”It’s him, the guy who had beaten up a senior last week”_

_”That’s Kim Geonhak, he has an awful temper. I heard his mother died in an accident.”_

_”Isn’t he the same guy who smashed the cafeteria bench that one time?”_

Geonhak tries hard to ignore the voices, really tries to become as insignificant as possible but it hurts. It hurts so damn much.

Sitting inside the detention room, he watches the sky turn darker and darker, gradually melting into nighttime, numb to the indistinct chatter around him. His surroundings have long stopped affecting him. It’s like he’s watching the world through glass, watching the people carry on with their life while he’s just stuck here; stuck in time. Because his world stopped moving the day his mom stopped breathing.

 **26.12.2018** The night of the accident. They were so happy on the way back; his father, his mother and him. His mom was singing. She had the most beautiful voice in the universe, that’s what his dad had said and that’s why he’d married her. His mom had laughed, it was such a pretty laugh, like the sound of trinkets. Geonhak insisted that she resume her song, because he loves when his mom sings. His mom was singing, and then she was screaming.

Geonhak jerks awake. He looks around, his neck aching in the process as he tries to place his surroundings. His head is pounding. There’s a blackboard in front of him, with the words ‘detention area’ written across it. Right, he was in detention. He must have dozed off.

Geonhak lifts himself up on shaky legs, his hands are all sweaty. The classroom is empty; detention must have ended and it seemed like no one bothered to wake him up. Geonhak wonders what time it is. Outside, the sky is pitch black. Slowly, he makes his way out, the ghost of his mother’s last song ringing inside his head. He stops, feeling nauseous all of a sudden and leans against the nearby wall, breathing heavily.

It’s been 2 damn years, and yet he can’t fight the nightmares that surround him.

He can still feel that unrestrained laughter, the indistinct sounds of the piano chords haunting his brain as he finds it harder and harder to breathe by every passing second. He grips his hair in frustration trying to wipe the distorted images from his mind. The flash of lights, the shattering of glass and the screams.

“Stop,” he chokes out, sweat clinging on his hairline.

There’s blood everywhere.

Geonhak screams, his hands balled into fists as he turns around and punches the wall feeling the cheap plaster crumpling from the impact. Pain shoots up, across his arm and his knuckles burn yet that slow and haunting melody bounces across the hall and Geonhak finds himself lost inside the dark abyss filled with tragic memories.

Then he feels it again, a soft, invisible presence wrapping itself around him, like an anchor, pulling him out of his misery and Geonhak latches onto the feeling, trying to hold onto his sanity. His breathing calms down, the pounding in his head reduced to a dull ache and he’s suddenly aware of how much his knuckles sting. He winces at the sight of his bruised up skin, gently poking at the reddened area and hisses at the burning sensation.

He sighs, unsure of what just happened and looks around, when his eyes find something that makes his heart stutter to a stop. It’s a piano. He hadn’t realised he was standing outside the music department all this while.

 _I need to get out of here,_ he thinks but his legs start moving on their own accord and he finds himself standing inside the room, staring unblinkingly at the piano situated at the corner. He walks closer, as if in a trance, gently running a finger across the smooth surface, the melody of his mother’s last song echoing inside the silent room.

_“Geonhak, do you want to play the piano?” his mother smiles down at him._

_7 year old Geonhak gasps and looks at his mom with wide, sparkling eyes._

_“Yes, mumma! Can you teach me?”_

_His mother laughs, placing a kiss on his forehead, “Of course mumma can teach you.”_

When Geonhak plays the first chord, it sounds wrong, a jarring sound resonating inside the empty room and he almost flinches back, too scared to continue but something guides his fingers to move. Invisible hands, brushing across his own sending shivers everywhere, making his hair stand on edge. He notices the glowing moon outside the window and feels an almost magical presence flowing through the notes he plays, the melody filling up each and every corner of his world, and at some point Geonhak realises that the song doesn’t sound haunting anymore. It sounds full of hope and love, just like the way his mother once used to sing.

Geonhak pulls up the hood of his jacket, trying to block the chilly wind blowing across the silent neighborhood. He sniffs, then shoves his hands inside the pockets, kicking aside a stray stone that happens to come in his way.

The moment he’d stepped inside the house, he had a feeling this would happen. His dad was yelling, the living room was trashed with broken beer bottles and the whole house reeked of alcohol and madness. A small part of him had hoped that his dad was too drunk to notice him slipping inside his room, but no. As soon as he’d entered, his dad had spotted him and dragged him into the living room, cursing and shouting.

Geonhak doesn’t recall what happened next, all he remembers is a gust of the chilly, winter air and then he’s crashing down on the pavement in nothing but a worn out hoodie. He’s cold, and hungry and his own dad just kicked him out of the house.

Geonhak curses, his hands digging inside his pockets in hopes of finding any leftover cash but in vain. He scoffs, pitying his miserable state. There’s an angry, large cut on his right arm, but thankfully it’s not bleeding because Geonhak doesn’t want to spend money on bandages. 

He starts walking down a deserted alley when his stomach growls in protest, resulting in a wave of nausea flooding in and clouding his senses. Feeling lightheaded, he sinks to the ground and draws his knees close to his chest willing the dizziness to pass away.

He groans, wondering how long he’ll have to wander in the streets. How much longer will he have to suffer? How much longer— Geonhak stops, picking up a faint sound of footsteps getting closer. He stiffens, breath catching in his throat as he tries to shrink further into the shadows. The man, he seems to be around 20, doesn’t notice him at all and walks right past him, quietly whistling to himself. Geonhak watches him go, when his eyes land on his pockets and a thought crosses his mind. 

A _vile_ , despicable thought. And before he knows it, he’s already standing up, his hands balled into fists as he starts trailing the man. The latter skips forward happily, blissfully unaware of the danger looming behind him.

Geonhak pulls up his hood, effectively hiding his face from view. The streetlight flickers. He sucks in a breath, pauses, then lunges at the man and tackles him to the ground. He lands a punch across his face, feeling the blow reverberate through his arm and clenches his teeth, his vision blurred due to unshed tears.

Wiping at his eyes, he takes a deep breath and slips a hand inside the pocket of his jeans and retrieves the man’s wallet, and only then does he realise how badly his hands had been shivering all this while.

An hour later, Geonhak walks through the same alley with a cheeseburger in one hand and drops the stolen wallet at the same place he mugged that stranger. 

He never looks back.

— 

_Dear moon,_

_I’m sorry._

— 

The world is a strange place; a giant spider web of broken promises. A nightmare wearing the face of a beautiful dream. Everything is a lie, unreal.

 _The world is a cruel place,_ Geonhak sniffs, furiously rubbing at his reddened eyes when he catches sight of beautiful, colorful graffiti sprayed across the walls. He stops, staring at the massive, semi-abstract pieces of artistry with admiration mixed with a hint of bitterness.

Geonhak feels something burning inside him and he turns around, clenching his fists and is about to walk away when his eyes land on a particular incomplete artwork; a splash of orange and black, the same piece he couldn’t finish last time. 

Geonhak moves on impulse, picking up an abandoned spray can from the ground and moves over to the unfinished graffiti. He works under the faint streetlight, almost in a trance, covering the wall surface with color as black as ink till the can runs out of paint.

Geonhak steps back, losing his hold on the container and silently watches it fall back on the concrete, rolling away from his sight. He drags his fingers across the wet paint, shivering as he feels the color seep into his skin, tainting them black.

A splash of orange mixed with black and a shiver runs down his spine as he stares at the word in front of him; written by him in bold, black letters.

‘ MONSTER ‘

 _The world is a cruel place,_ Geonhak thinks, _It turned him into a monster._

The clock strikes 6. 

“Alright, time’s up. You rascals can get the fuck out of here now” the teacher announces, seemingly annoyed that his precious time was wasted in monitoring dumb students in detention.

Geonhak sighs, grabs his bag and gets up, moving at his own leisurely pace. The sky is already dark outside, engulfing everyone and everything in its gloomy and melancholic atmosphere. He moves towards the exit, only to find his way blocked by a certain someone, someone he doesn’t particularly like.

“Hey there, _freak._ ”

Geonhak stops in his tracks, his hands instinctively curling into fists.

“ _Lee Sangin_ ” he grits out.

Sangin smirks, pushing himself off the wall he was leaning against, one hand shoved inside his pockets then takes a step forward. Geonhak stares back at him, hands impulsively tightening around the straps of his backpack and the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by Sangin’s eyes.

“Hiding something in your bag, are you?” he asks, cocking his head to one side.

“Get out of my fucking way,” Geonhak spits out, trying to push his way past Sangin and his two sidekicks. He doesn’t have time for this bullshit, but Sangin strikes out and shoves him backwards, hard. Completely unprepared, Geonhak crashes against the classroom wall, tripping over a fallen chair in the process.

Geonhak groans. His vision is hazy, and his head hurts. Sangin is looming over him, he’s grinning. Geonhak hates him. He wants him to leave him alone.

Sangin’s laughter bounces off the walls; it’s evil, menacing.

He gestures to one of his sidekicks and the guy moves towards Geonhak’s backpack, snatches it and tosses it to Sangin, who catches it effortlessly. He waves the backpack in front of Geonhak, grinning savagely. 

“Get a life, freak. You’re fucking pathetic.”

Geonhak clenches his teeth, his whole body shaking with suppressed anger as he gets up and lunges at Sangin, his hands fisting inside the collar of his expensive shirt, “Call me freak once again, and i’ll smash that skull right down your fucking grave,” he snarls.

Sangin glares back at him, no longer smirking. “Get your hands off me, filth” he spits the words out and Geonhak clenches his teeth. Consumed by anger and sheer hatred for the senior guy, Geonhak lashes out and punches him across the face. Sangin falls back but instantly regains his balance and lunges at him and both of them crash on the ground, thrashing.

“Why are you just standing there, you fools! Get him,” Sangin shouts at his two sidekicks, who startle and rush forward. They manage to wrestle Geonhak away from Sangin and pin him against the wall for good measure. His lower lip is bleeding. Geonhak might be strong but he’s no match against two well-built senior kids.

Sangin is breathing heavily and there’s a cut above his eyebrow. “Piece of shit” he mutters, wiping at his forehead. Mad with anger, he slaps Geonhak across his face just to humiliate him further, then grabs the fallen backpack and wrenches it open. Geonhak watches his spray cans, some cash and his letters fall onto the ground beneath him and he holds back a sob.

Sangin scoffs, kicking the spray cans when his eyes land on the multiple ink-filled parchments and he raises an eyebrow.

“Don’t you dare—” Geonhak growls.

Sangin smirks and picks up one of the scattered pieces of paper, his eyebrows pinching together as he reads through it, then bursts out laughing.

“Look at this,” he snickers and shuffles through more of his letters. “Did you really write this shit and addressed it to the moon?” he asks in disbelief, barely containing his laughter at the sheer absurdity and steps closer to where Geonhak has been restrained against the classroom wall.

“Tell me, Geonhak” he whispers, “Do you really think the moon will read these letters?”

“Do you really think your dad will care?” he continues, his words slashing through Geonhak’s heart, “Or maybe you’ve forgotten that your mom is dead.”

Geonhak tries to shut off his voice but it bounces back, consuming him, slowly breaking him apart. The world seems to stop and Geonhak finds himself falling to his knees, Sangin’s next words ringing in his ears.

“No one will ever love you, freak.”

Geonhak watches, horrorstruck, as Sangin tears his letters in front of his very eyes. His letters, in which he concealed a part of himself, are being ripped to shreds and stepped on beneath someone’s shoes. His letters to the moon, the precious conversations he had, his only source of comfort is now tainted with something dark and despicable; repulsive, and Geonhak feels something shatter inside him.

A tear falls down his cheek, his bottom lip is quivering. His eyes seem glassy and unfocused, as if they’re trapped in some hellish nightmare before it all comes back at him, the reality of everything hitting him like a whiplash and all his pain, suffering and agony turns into the one thing he always tries to run away from. Anger.

Geonhak sees red everywhere. Angry, dark splotches of red, orange and scarlet blurring his vision as he roughly pushes past everyone and runs out of that cursed place. He runs out into the streets, screaming out to the stars, to the moon hanging low in the sky. He runs away from all those people who hurt him, who never understood him. Runs until he can’t anymore, tripping over an uneven rock and ultimately falls onto grass, exhausted and broken.

He looks up at the sky, stares at the glowing full moon, with tears streaming down his face and wishes for a friend, someone who will wipe away his tears, someone whom he can hug, someone who _loves him back._

“Help me,” he sobs. _“Please.”_

A pitiful figure, tired and bruised up, kneeling on the grass and begging the moon to stop the suffering, the pain and the anger brimming up inside him. Anger at his mom, for leaving him on that night. Anger at his dad, for not loving him enough and resorting to alcohol to dull his own pain. Anger at _himself,_ for not trying enough. 

Geonhak digs his hands inside the grass, fingernails caking up with dirt when he hears it. A faint melody of a lonesome song echoing around him. Geonhak looks up, dried tear stains visible on either side of his face. The moon looks brighter, feels like it’s almost sparkling, and Geonhak feels an unnatural energy surrounding him. He tries to crawl away, knows he should get out of here but the presence somehow calms him. It gives him a feeling of hope and happiness; A feeling of a better future.

He feels something moving on the ground beneath him, and he startles. A flower, white as snow, starts blooming right in front of him. Its petals seem soft and delicate, just like a feather, dripping with golden dust at the edges.

 _The Moonflower._ Geonhak’s brain supplies subconsciously.

The air shimmers in front of him, and Geonhak watches, transfixed, as a woman with long silvery hair and as beautiful as the sparkling moonlight, appears in front of him. She has kind eyes, just like his mother had. 

“W-Who are you?” Geonhak finds himself asking.

She smiles at him; it's a radiant smile but bittersweet at the same time. 

She holds out her hand, beckoning him to take it. Geonhak hesitates, biting his lip and looks at her again. The woman nods and somehow it’s all Geonhak needed. He places his hand in hers.

 _“Come with me, moonchild,”_ she says, _“You’re okay now.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Some further breakdown of the plot: so like, the overall theme of the fic was obviously playing around with the negative emotion, anger. Geonhak was subjected to anger due to the situations. People aren’t born bad, they are controlled by their emotions and the situations around them.
> 
> Also I like to believe that Geonhak grows up to become a pianist, and that way he can always feel his loved ones around him.
> 
> And special thanks to mini, kiki and han for motivating me to complete this fic ily♡
> 
> (kudos & comments are appreciated)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/rchiveweus) [curious cat](https://curiouscat.qa/rchiveweus)


End file.
